Page 8 of Hotshot

“How you settling in, Patts? I hear you got an apartment pretty central. When I arrived, they put me in the usual block they reserve for new players. But clearly, you’re a special case.”

Sloane held up her hands. “I had nothing to do with it. I think my agent might have done, though.”

“Closer to the action,” Layla replied. “Not that you’re after any action.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I’m married, and you’re engaged. Who would have thought it when we were tearing up the league and kissing any girl who’d have us back in the day?”

“Who indeed?”

Their boots click-clacked on the concrete as they stepped off the grass and through the glass doors to the locker room. Sloane heard the facilities were good at Salchester, but they were better than anywhere she’d been before. Training on a velvet carpet of green grass trimmed to perfection. To her right, a wall of glass that housed a state-of-the-art gym. Beyond that, huge treatment and meeting rooms, where she knew she’d find Ella. This was a step up from where she’d been. Men and women training at the same facilities, viewed on equal footing.

“Interesting story from Lucy today. You’re up next when we get to Germany. You know what you’re going to say?”

Sloane shook her head. “Not yet, but I’ll mull it over.”

Lucy had started training today by telling them about her career, and how she dreamed of playing in bigger stadiums when she was young. However, back then, the women’s game wasn’t in the right place, and teams played on terrible pitches with no facilities. “At one point, because my parents didn’t accept me as a lesbian, and football paid nothing, I slept in my car for a few months,” she told them.

There had been gasps all round, including from Sloane. But luckily, her story had a happy ending, and she was now managing in those bigger stadiums she’d dreamed of playing in. “The FA is still run by men. The right to play was withdrawn once, so always remember those who fought to get it back. You’re standing on the shoulders of giants. Enjoy it, live your best life, but never take it for granted.”

Sloane hadn’t given much thought to what she was going to say before their first game in Germany, but she wanted it to be something personal, to show she fully trusted them, just as Lucy had done. Maybe she could share the story of her parents? She’d never done that before, mainly because it washugelypersonal and vulnerable. It fitted the bill perfectly.

“How’s Jess?”

Sloane’s skin prickled. What had Layla heard? The women’s game might have gone global and picked up a slew of new fans, but it was still a small world. When relationships began or split, it was pretty common knowledge once the grapevine had done its work. However, seeing as Sloane didn’t actually know what was happening with her relationship, she’d be surprised if Layla did.

“Good.” Short answers. That was what she’d decided she’d give if people asked. She knew they would, of course. She and Jess were a power couple on and off the field. They scored goals, as well as sponsorships and big-money deals. They were two of the highest earners in the global game. But they were still just two women, navigating their long-distance relationship. Sloane knew there had been many column inches written about their lives since she’d agreed to this UK move. YouTubers had gone to town. Twitter had gone into meltdown. Jess staying put in the US hadn’t helped the rumours. However, they hadn’t said a word to any of their friends or colleagues. As far as anyone was concerned, Sloane and Jess were still very much together, and still committed to their relationship.

“She coming over for international camp in October? If she does, it’d be great to catch up.”

If Jess was picked, she’d be on UK soil. Sloane had pushed that issue to the back of her mind. “I’ll let you know. I’m speaking to her later. We have to see how our schedules are going to pan out. You know how it is when you’re in different countries and playing in different leagues.”

They arrived at their pegs and Layla took off her top, revealing a well-toned six pack. She got up every morning and did 200 sit-ups. Sloane knew this because Layla never tired of telling her.

“You know what happened when Courtney and I tried living in different countries. It quickly went south. My advice? Stay in contact, get comfortable with phone and video sex, and don’t go too long without talking. Otherwise, things might spiral where you don’t want them to go.” She stroked her firm stomach. “Now, are we going for coffee after this at Shot Of The Day? Michelle told me this morning that Suzy made fresh chocolate Guinness cake last night.”

Sloane glanced Layla’s way. “So long as you drive me to the city first so I can pick up a coffee machine. Then, coffee after that sounds perfect.”

* * *

A gaggleof excited teenage girls were in the coffee shop when they arrived, as was often the case. Because the cafe was owned by a Salchester legend and her wife, fans often hung around hoping to spot a player. Sloane posed for photos and signed autographs before taking a seat. She took a first sip. Damn, it was good. The Guinness cake was sold out, but this was worth the trip. This flat white reminded her of cups she’d drunk in the Cali sunshine with Jess. Perhaps she’d have to come to Shot Of The Day more often.

Sloane’s mind flashed to Ella. Had she tasted this yet? She’d love the stuff in LA, too. She’d fit in there. Ella’s upbeat, incisive energy was very Californian, unlike her accent, which Sloane sometimes found hard to understand. Maybe the energy came from her determination to be the best and make everyone else the best around her, too. It’s what everyone did on the West Coast. They studied, they ate right, they tried to upgrade their lives.

The team at Salchester was good, but she wasn’t sure they had that extrasomething. Yet. She could help to bring it. So could Ella. Sloane was sure Ella had given her all on the field. What level had she played to? And why had she stopped? Sloane was intrigued. Ella was the person she’d most like to get to know. The squad was great and there were some good characters, but she’d met their types before at her previous clubs. The studious ones. The tactical ones. The physical ones. The rookies.

In contrast, she’d never met an Ella before.

After 45 minutes, she bid her goodbyes, before taking herself and her new coffee machine home.

Sloane walked in her front door, set down the machine and threw her keys on the island. This place still felt like a cold, empty shell. She needed to warm it up. Outside, drizzle stained the floor-to-ceiling windows. That was a new word she’d learned since she got here, too. Drizzle. Sloane was pretty sure it didn’t exist in LA.

She kicked off her sneakers, then flopped down on the grey couch, ripping off her socks and wriggling her toes. Today’s session had been a good one, her penalties on point. They needed to be. It was her job this season, and like she always said, the best time to start preparing was now.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and went to her Instagram. She scrolled down, right through to last year. She stopped when she got to the photo of her down on one knee, proposing to Jess on a Hawaiian beach. It was meant to be the ultimate romantic proposal, captured by a photographer at sunset. Only, the heavens had opened and it poured down. For Sloane, that had made it more real, more special. Jess, however, had been less than thrilled at getting soaked. What the camera didn’t show you was that her bad mood lasted the whole evening.

Sloane rested her head on the couch arm and shut her eyes. She’d told Ella she was lonely eventually, but she hadn’t said why. She missed LA. She missed her friends and her brother. But she didn’t miss Jess. That said a lot.

Her phone lit up in her hands.

Video call coming in from Jess.

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